An aquittal can't save you from the truth, Kelly Volpe.
I am sickened and saddened as I read this story. This is all I can think:
The truth is, Kelly, that with or without a jail sentance and with or without being able to show a blood test in court that proves you are a pathetic drunk, the fact remains that you killed your own child.
You took this beautiful creature, happy and cheerful and darling, and you threw her body from a truck you weren't even supposed to be driving, in a drunken rage. You showed her less care and protection than most people show their cell phones. And as she lay there on the ground, dying, your only focus was making damn sure no one tested your blood alcohol levels. To deny those behaviors, to exclaim your innocence, only proves to further devalue your existence as a human being...if that is even possible.
So no matter what you may say in court, I hope you spend your nights cuddling the knowledge of what you have done close to your heart. I hope it chills you to the bone. I hope the ghost of your husbands' weeping fills your ears till you can't bear it for another second, and then continues. I hope the memory of Abigail's sweet smile and wavy hair haunt you till your dying day - as it will haunt me.
There is a tree planted at the school that Abigail should have been scampering into on Monday for her first day of 1st grade. That tree bears picture memorials of five year olds who miss and love Abby. The bright pink flowers underneath it are in full bloom, and absolutely beautiful. And I hope that every time a set of eyes falls on that tree rather than a uniformed girl in brand new mary janes, excited to see all her friends and use her new pencils, your soul dies just a little.
Sadly, I doubt you even care.
The truth is, Kelly, that with or without a jail sentance and with or without being able to show a blood test in court that proves you are a pathetic drunk, the fact remains that you killed your own child.
You took this beautiful creature, happy and cheerful and darling, and you threw her body from a truck you weren't even supposed to be driving, in a drunken rage. You showed her less care and protection than most people show their cell phones. And as she lay there on the ground, dying, your only focus was making damn sure no one tested your blood alcohol levels. To deny those behaviors, to exclaim your innocence, only proves to further devalue your existence as a human being...if that is even possible.
So no matter what you may say in court, I hope you spend your nights cuddling the knowledge of what you have done close to your heart. I hope it chills you to the bone. I hope the ghost of your husbands' weeping fills your ears till you can't bear it for another second, and then continues. I hope the memory of Abigail's sweet smile and wavy hair haunt you till your dying day - as it will haunt me.
There is a tree planted at the school that Abigail should have been scampering into on Monday for her first day of 1st grade. That tree bears picture memorials of five year olds who miss and love Abby. The bright pink flowers underneath it are in full bloom, and absolutely beautiful. And I hope that every time a set of eyes falls on that tree rather than a uniformed girl in brand new mary janes, excited to see all her friends and use her new pencils, your soul dies just a little.
Sadly, I doubt you even care.